Ghost In The Shadows
by Saphrona Attecombe
Summary: A certain criminal element wants Reese out of the picture, permanently. Can Finch come up with a way to stop it from happening? Everyone shows up along the way; Carter, Fusco, Zoe, Agent Donnelly, and a mystery guest. (I hate summaries.) There will be romance, too! Please R&R! Thanks! Usual disclaimers apply.
1. Chapter 1

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Ghost In The Shadows

Prologue

Reese lay, flat on his back, on the cold ground, looking up into the midnight blue of night. It was just before new moon, he remembered; the sky was rampant with stars, and no moonlight to dim their fierce glitter. He'd seen stars…all around the world. Used their positions to locate his own, to extricate himself, or find someone else…but he'd never really _looked _at them, just for the sake of looking. Their pattern was broken by the stark intrusion of tree branches, naked of leaves in late autumn. He could smell the rich odor of earth, decaying leaves and vegetation, hear the brief rustle of a breeze pass his ears. Fall was about death, he thought…how appropriate, because he was lying here, dying. The guy a few feet away was already dead, two bullets through his heart, bullets Reese had put there himself. The weight of the Ruger 9mm, gripped tightly in his right hand, laying across his chest, was oddly comforting, even knowing that he was bleeding out into the chilly earth where it met his back.

A slow death, bleeding out.

His breath plumed away, warmth against the cold air, dissipating into the darkness. With it, he smelled blood, his, tasted it's copper sweetness in his mouth. He lifted his left hand, tapped his cell phone awake, smearing blood across the screen, trying to focus on its' glaring brightness; it still read NO SIGNAL. He let his hand drop back to the ground, his eyes fall shut. After a few moments, he pulled the phone back in front of his blurring gaze. Tapped up Finch's number, entered a brief text, hit 'send'. The phone looked back at him, blankly, mockingly, read 'NO SIGNAL'. He imagined the flashing red light of the street cams, blinking at him, assessing, deciding life and death with each flicker of information they passed to The Machine. Phones and security cameras, listening, babbling, eavesdropping, condoned or condemned, all streaming into the emotionless void of the Machine. Quantified, sorted, evaluated.

There were no cameras or phones, here, no lifelines to the man behind the Machine; Harold Finch. The conscience, the empathy, that the Machine could never have.

Reese clenched his eyes shut, tight, panted out a few sharp breaths of pain. Felt it spike through him, from both the bullet holes, just below his left shoulder blade. It wasn't as bad as before; shock had set in, and before much longer he'd slip into a daze, then death. He had no idea where he was, just that he was well away from the city, far enough that the lights didn't interfere much with the night. What he did know was that no one was going to find him, way out here, dumped down an embankment, not visible from the road. Not even Finch, not without the aid of his Machine.

Not before he was dead. There was no one who could find him, who would even be looking…or, was there?

'Who's your Guardian Angel, Reese? Or, don't you believe you deserve one?' she'd asked, then smiled. "Someone has to look out for _you.' _The words rang in his head, like alarms. Would she be looking for him? Why _would _she be? A sudden idea struck him, so terrifyingly simple, he could hardly believe it might work.

'Of course I read Morse Code,' she'd said, 'who doesn't?'

Reese pulled the phone back up to his face, and tapped in to an app, which flashe in Morse code, over and over. He lifted his head as best he could, straining to see where the road was. Pointed the phone's screen that direction, and propped it up against his gun-holding hand, then lay back into the earth's embrace, head reeling from just that small effort. He looked up at the stars, cruel in their coldness, and a smile flickered across his face. Wondered again; was she looking for him? He actually choked out a bitter laugh, at the thought. As his eyes closed, he realized, dizzily,

'_ In the end, we're all alone, and no one's coming to save us,' _gave a deep sigh, and fell into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd like to thank everyone for their interest in my story, as well as the kind coimments! Stay tuned; this story won't wrap up as easily as yuou might expect. As always, please R&R, and enjoy!

Chapter One

_One Month Ago_

Elias adjusted his glasses, then tucked hands into his pockets as he surveyed the city beyond his window. It never quit, out there, never slept. That was good, for him, as a businessman; it meant his opportunities for profit were also available twenty-four seven. Ships, in and out of port, plane flights, trucking lines, the avenues open to him were nearly limitless. He pulled a frown, then sighed. The down side was law enforcement ran the same hours, and certain ones among them had become rather annoying. It irritated him that he had to deal with so many minor problems, such as his people being arrested for petty little things like possession with intent to sell, numbers running for…what…a couple mills? Chump change. The truly frustrating thing was his continued inability to purchase certain elements of the police force, and those same elements had, unfairly to his mind, set out with single-minded determination, to cause him grief. All he wanted was the City to run smoothly, as it had in the past, the glory days of organized crime. No chaos in the streets, no gang wars, nothing unsanctioned occurring. Once he'd secured his release from jail, a state of affairs also directly related to said law enforcement officials, finalizing his control of the City had become a priority.

Elias sighed again, said to the man beside him,

'I have to admit, John's 'pets' are becoming quite troublesome. Sad to say, as much as I have enjoyed the challenge his interference has offered, as well as respecting him as a worthy adversary, I believe the time has come to say good-bye.'

'Sir?' Scarface said, awaiting his orders.

'We have to remove him from all future equations. I believe that, if we get his influence off the scene, his 'pets' will more readily settle into line.'

'We haven't been able to find him, Sir. He's like some kind of ghost.' Elias shook his head, waved a chiding finger, a benevolent smile for his underling.

'No, not a ghost, just very well hidden. He makes good use of the shadows. To find him, all we have to do is follow the leashes. Don't underestimate the chance that Fusco could be our man, but focus on Detective Carter. He fancies her his perfect asset. He trusts her, because she's a woman. Sooner or later, I believe she'll be the one to lead you right to him.'

Finch pulled the picture down with a satisfied smile, and added it to his growing collection of successful interventions. Each time he could do that, the easier it became to endure the sight of his wall of lost opportunities.

'No number, today, Finch?' Reese queried, from behind; Finch smelled coffee, donuts, and tea, and turned stiffly with a relaxed smile for his comrade.

'Nothing so far, Mr. Reese,' he said, happily, shuffling to take the tea and select a donut, settled into his chair. Reese chose a chair across the table and propped his feet up, ignoring Finch's annoyed scowl directed at his feet, munching a donut and sipping his coffee.

'Maybe I'll catch up on my e mail,' he mused, drawing a shocked look from Finch, to which he gave a laugh. He didn't have anyone to send e mail to, and Harold knew that. It only took a split second for Finch to realize Reese was just busting him, and he made an annoyed face in return. Reese sat quietly for several minutes, thinking, as Finch tapped away at his precious computer. Finally, he decided,

'I might touch base with Fusco. I haven't rattled his cage in awhile. Keeps him on his toes.' Finch gave a short, humorless laugh.

' 'Cage' might well be an accurate description of where Detective Fusco could eventually find himself. Given his propensity for living a double life, I fear he'll end up preferring one life over the other.' Reese sipped coffee, nodded in agreement, then swung his feet to the floor, stood.

'All different kinds of cages, Finch,' Reese observed, looking around him, indicating the building they were in. Finch took his point, immediately, and while the inference didn't make him happy, he could hardly argue. Reese gave a small shrug, and headed out toward the world.

Finch waited to be certain he'd exited the building, then tapped a message into his keyboard;

'He's left the Library'. Within a few seconds, a reply appeared;

'On the way.' Finch fidgeted in his chair, clearly struggling with some inner conflict; but it was too late to change what he'd done, now. For better or worse, he'd just have to bide his time to determine whether or not he'd made a good decision.

'Did you bring enough to share, Lionel?' Reese's voice vibrated into Fusco's ear, nearly causing him dump his coffee in his lap. As it was, he choked a couple coughs, had to lay down his donut and wipe his face.

'Geeze, if you give me a heart attack, what good am I gonna be to ya?' Fusco complained, looking at Reese in his rearview mirror. Reese smiled, shrugged.

'Like I've told you, before; plenty of dirty cops, Lionel.'

'Yeah, whatever,' Fusco scowled, setting his coffee into the cup holder, glancing around at the pedestrian traffic, just to be sure no one else was paying attention to them. He had to tread a fine line, playing both sides, and if the wrong people saw him with Mr. Suit, Fusco would find himself permanently planted in a small piece of real estate somewhere outside the city.

'Whattaya want? ' Fusco grumbled, wishing his visitor would just get out of his car and go away, leave him finish his breakfast.

' You're hurting my feelings, Lionel. Just dropped in to say hello,' Reese smiled, 'be sure everything is still running smoothly back at the office.'

'Yeah, it's swell,' Fusco snorted,' Just kinda tough to figure out who _isn't_ spying on everyone else.'

'Everyone is spying on everyone else. You should realize that, by now.' Fusco shook his head, angry and annoyed, glared into the mirror.

'Well, then why do ya need me?' Reese pulled a thoughtful face, agreed,

'Why _do _we, Lionel?'

' 'Cause it's too much trouble to get someone else inside, that's why,' Fusco huffed. Reese gave a small smile, and sighed.

'You just keep telling yourself that. I'll be in touch.'

'I'm sure you will,' Fusco grumbled, as he watched Reese exit the car, and disappear into the morning rush foot traffic.

After walking a few blocks, Reese decided to have a bit of real breakfast at the small Diner across the street. He had just placed his order with the busy waitress when someone plopped into the seat across from him; Detective Carter. He hid his annoyance; he wasn't at all pleased she had begun to find him so easily, and that she had no qualms about interfering in whatever he was doing, even if it was just breakfast. He really did value her as an asset, and respected her dedication, so he decided not make an issue out of it, for now.

'Detective,' he acknowledged, sipping his coffee. She smiled, the same reserved smile she kept for people she wasn't quite sure she trusted.

'John. Will I have to worry about the body count going up, today?' she inquired, sarcasm, to which he gave a brittle smile.

'The body count in this city goes up every day, and it has nothing to do with me.' She tossed him a scowl, not amused.

'Not working?' she prodded, eyebrows arched, and Reese locked down the expression on his face, didn't reply. It didn't set well that she had become so interested in the affairs he and Finch dealt with; he preferred to decide whether or not she was involved. She sighed, irritably, tapped a fingernail on the tabletop, but didn't say anything more. Reese could see questions floating around behind her eyes, but, if nothing else, she had learned he wasn't about to tell her anything he didn't want to.

'Is there something I can do for you, Detective?'

'Just not happy, having Elias back on the streets,' she admitted, and Reese shrugged. They both knew how things worked; if you had enough money, enough influence, things happened the way you wanted them to, which included being able to get out on bail, despite the serious charges involved in his case.

'While I can assure you that I share that sentiment, I can't see what that has to do with me.' Carter shot him a nasty look, shook her head.

'Absolutely nothing,' she admitted, jamming hands into her coat pockets. Reese gave a stiff smile, sat his coffee down to accept his plate from the waitress, who glanced at Carter, asked,

'Can I get you anything?'

'She was just leaving,' Reese informed the girl, with a pointed glance at Carter. The waitress gave a brief nod, filled his coffee, and hustled off.

'Have a nice day, Detective,' he said, effectively dismissing her. She gave an irritated huff, slid from the booth, and left. Reese watched her until she was out of sight, brow puckered in thought. After a few moments, he sighed, and began munching on toast and bacon. Decided that, once he'd finished here, he'd go see if Han was available to play checkers.

Reese wandered back up the Library stairs, somewhat at a loss at to what to do with the rest of his day. He wasn't used to 'down time'. He'd had a long and enjoyable chat with Han over checkers, but he got uncomfortable if he spent too long sitting out in the open. As he headed down the narrow, book-shelf hall toward Finch's computers, he heard a strange sound. A faint 'zzzzzzip', then a solid 'thunk'. Another followed, then another, rapid and evenly spaced. He picked up his pace, catching Finch's attention as he came into the room rather more quickly than normal.

'What's that?' he asked, confused, to Finch's surprised stare. The sound came again, and Finch rolled his eyes, shook his head, looked back to his monitors.

'Not 'what', but, rather, 'who',' he said, which wasn't at all helpful. He tossed a glance toward to book shelf hall to his right, and Reese let his attention slide past Finch to a second person, standing with their back to him…drawing a _bow? _Reese moved past Finch, watched the archer slam out six more perfect shots into the target at the end of the hall.

' Who's this, Legolas?' Reese smarted off, turning the archer to face him.

'Hardly,' she said, met his eyes with a snappy smile, 'I'm neither blonde, nor Elven.' Reese just stared, caught completely off guard. She was five foot five or six, maybe one-forty, probably of an age with him. She had mahogany red hair, just past her shoulders, layered to frame her face, and the color set off her sharp blue-green eyes. The slight graying at her temples was flattering. Her smile was broad, flashing teeth as she gave a chuckle. Her build was athletic, her moves deliberate and well-trained. He guessed former military. She wore tight black leather pants, laced at the sides, knee-high motorcycle boots, and a long sleeved red tunic-style top, embroidered with an elaborate black and silver design. Behind him, he heard Finch getting to his feet, as she stepped toward him.

'Angelica, with a 'g',' she informed him, pertly, met his eyes without hesitation. Reese looked down at her, not quite sure what to make of all this.

'Are you? Angelic?' he asked, embarrassed by how stupid it sounded once he said it. She burst out a laugh, shook her head, which sent silver earrings flashing, and turned to lay her bow across the table.

'Not even close,' she confided.

'Angelica is working on a special project for me, Mr. Reese, so you can expect to see her, on occasion,' Finch informed him, casting an eye toward the target at the end of the hall, noting the impressive grouping in the center. He made a satisfied face, gave her a nod. Reese said,

'You said you don't like weapons here,' almost pouting, even though he always had guns in here. Finch scanned Angelica with a sharp look, said,

'In this case, I will make an exception. As I do for you, Mr. Reese.' She accepted his statement with a nod, turned to retrieve her arrows. Finch glanced at his watch, returned to his chair to scoop up his jacket, tapping his computer into secure mode.

'Looks like there's still nothing for you, today, Mr. Reese. I will most certainly call you if that changes,' he said, waiting for Angelica to get to the target before leaning conspiratorially toward Reese.

'She has no idea how we do what we do here, so let's keep it that way.' Reese scowled at Finch, who moved away, pulled on his jacket, said, in a normal tone,

'I have some appointments, this afternoon. Just be sure to lock up, when you leave.' He gave both Reese and Angelica a nod, then left.

Reese was left, staring at Angelica, who returned her arrows to their quiver, and laid it alongside her bow. He was quiet so long she finally said,

'What?'

'What does Finch have you doing for him?' Angelica's smile changed, became guarded. It was clearly none of his business, but she gave a polite reply,

' It seems he needs to find some things, occasionally. I'm pretty good at that.' She squared her shoulders, asked, eyebrows arched, head tilted in mock curiosity,

'What is it _you _do, exactly?' Reese grimaced, didn't answer. She laughed, waved the question away with a wink.

'I already know. You're the 'number runner'.'

Reese just scowled, pretty much ignored her comments. Of course she would have to have some idea of what went on here, otherwise Harold never would have brought her in. What he wasn't happy with was the way that Harold had blindsided him with this, and he was thoroughly confused about the whole bow and arrow thing. She saw him eyeing the weapon, gave a small,

'Ha! I knew it wouldn't take long for you to ask.'

'I didn't,' he defended, but she replied, pointing at his expression,

'Oh, yes, you did.' She moved to take a seat on the edge of the table, and Reese pulled out Finch's chair, plopped into it, subconsciously laying claim to Finch's friendship, as well as everything else that went on in this building.

'In the process of finding things, I sometimes need to remove, shall we say, impediments? Since I work alone, I like to get in, get out, minimal fuss, no unnecessary contact. Hence, the bow. Silent.' The look on Reese's face was skeptical, to put it mildly, so she elaborated.

'Muzzle flash can be targeted,' she said, and Reese just gave a brief nod of agreement, because he knew how true that was. Even a silenced weapon would produce a visible flash for a trained observer. 'Gunfire draws attention, quick, they can be traced…well, I'm preaching to the choir, here, right?' Reese actually smiled, then, unable to suppress a chuckle. She indicated her bow, the arrows, said,

'None of the above applies, not with this.' His smile faded as he processed the truth of what she'd said. She made a derogatory face, observed, with a pointed glance at his holstered weapon,

'Guns make people sloppy, gives them a false sense of superiority.' Her tone, not quite accusatory, not exactly polite. Reese didn't miss the insult, and for some reason, it really rankled him.

'You have to get pretty close, with that,' he observed, sharply, ' Must be a drawback.' and now it was her turn to smile.

'True, I may have to get closer, but it also makes me more careful. Don't get me wrong…I carry backup,' she turned, lifted her shirt briefly to reveal a 9mm Sig Sauer with a 15 round clip tucked neatly against the small of her back, 'but, it's only backup. A nice bonus with this is the 'shock factor.' Really throws targets for a loop, having arrows coming at them instead of bullets. By time they figure out where they're coming from, it's too late. ' He tilted an eye toward her calves, then her forearms, queried,

'And, those?'

She smiled, mischievously, confirmed his suspicions by twitching back her sleeve to reveal a sheathed dagger, and another tucked tightly into her boot. She seemed almost pleased that he'd spotted them. A new gleam of respect flashed across her face, quickly hidden.

'More backup?' Reese smiled, but there was no amusement in the curl of his lips, his sharp, blue-grey eyes narrowed beneath thick black lashes. An expression Kara Stanton had once called, in deadly seriousness, his 'Predator Gaze'. Whoever this woman was, she was certainly a person he needed to take seriously. Angelica shrugged, smile gone as cold as his. Her posture was tense, prepared to move fast, if necessary. Her eyes, nearly of a color to his, snapped back at him without fear, said,

'I don't like people touching me without permission.' Reese nodded, said,

I'll remember that.'

Angelica slid off the table, gathered her weapons. Unstrung the short bow, slid it into the quiver, popped a cap over it, and it really appeared to be nothing more than a hard sided document tube. Reese was impressed, but made sure to keep that to himself. He'd been wondering how she was going to get away with walking down the street, looking like Robin Hood.

'Good to meet you, Mr. Reese,' she acknowledged, pulling on a heavy leather jacket, and surprised him by lifting a motorcycle helmet from a chair in the corner. 'I'm sure I'll see you around.'

'I'm sure you will,' he responded, watching her intently as she went from view. After a minute he stood, locking the Library down, to follow her. She moved with a long, purposeful stride, quickly covering the several blocks to where her bike was parked. She did excellent, low-key surveillance the entire distance, which prompted him to get under cover when she took the few moments needed to secure her gear to her bike before hopping on it. She did one last quick scan of the area, gaze lingering a few extra seconds on the corner that Reese had ducked behind. She suppressed a grin, small shake of her head, then pulled on her helmet. Reese scowled, wondered, had she known he was following, seen him? The bike, a crotch rocket, sporting a nice silver and black custom paint job, fired up, a sweet low-key rumble from the performance-tuned engine, and carried her off, to disappear in traffic.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

Reese stood across the street, watching the young woman at her job as a school crossing guard. She was a pretty, dark-eyed Mexican girl, long, black hair pinned back from her face.

'Carolina Salas. Crossing guard, nursing home aide, day care substitute worker,' Finch's voice said, in his ear.

'Busy lady,' Reese commented, sharp eyes surveying the surrounding sidewalks.

'She has to be,' Finch said, 'Her Father is in Hospice care, no other family in the picture. While she was in school, she got involved with one of the local gangs, ended up doing time, and, in the process, lost a Scholarship opportunity.' Reese pulled up his binoculars, scanned her features carefully. She seemed genuinely content with her work, laughing and chatting with her young charges as they paraded in orderly groups across the street under her watchful eye.

'She has since worked hard to turn her life around, and has apparently done quite a good job, at that.'

'So, who wants to hurt a crossing guard?' Reese wondered, aloud, tucking binoculars into his coat, and Finch chimed in,

'Several weeks ago, she exposed some gang members for selling drugs on school grounds, and they are coming up for trial, end of this week. She's due to testify. If they're found guilty, they're looking at a lot of time.'

'Let me guess; some of Elias' crew,' Reese growled, face twisted into a grimace of disgust.

'Exactly.'

'What was the Scholarship for?' Reese wondered.

'Music.'

Reese did another scan of the neighborhood, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. No lingering hoodlums, no one sitting in a parked car, watching her. He glanced at his watch, biding his time until the school bells rang, and he would be able to approach her without interference.

She hurried the last of the students along, jovially bantering at them, and did a long look around of her own, in case there were any tardy kids lingering too long over their cell phones. The last of the kids disappeared into the fenced schoolyard, and, in the distance, Reese heard the bell ring.

Carolina stepped to the sidewalk, setting aside her sign, to pull off her safety gear. Reese stepped out from behind the tree, and made his way across the street. He was wearing a tie and glasses, carried an umbrella, hoping he looked as much like a concerned parent as possible.

'Excuse me, Miss,' he called, as she headed toward a bus stop sign, stopping her to turn his way. He pulled out his most charming smile as approached, and she returned it.

'I'm sorry to bother you,' he opened, adjusting his glasses, allowing himself to sound a bit out of breath as he arrived,

' Can I ask you a question?' She nodded, clearly confused, but prepared to be helpful.

'I'm considering buying a house in this school district, and I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this school? Of course, the Administration has painted me a lovely picture, but, I was hoping to get a more un-biased opinion, if I may? I want to be certain this would be a good environment for my children.'

'Ah, sure, okay,' she replied, still not sure exactly what he meant. He smiled, again, asked ,

' I'm especially interested in the quality of their music programs. My son, he really enjoys guitar, and I'd like to see him start off in an optimal environment.' Carolina's face lit up, and she replied,

'Oh, yes, their program is exceptional. I was…very involved, when I attended here.' Reese could see her face fall with disappointment as she spoke, so he asked the next question. He lowered his voice, a conspiratorial tone, leaned closer,

'Do I need to worry about illegal drug activity? I mean, I realize this is an elementary school, but, I still have serious concerns.' Her face grew hard, and a frown folded her forehead.

' Now and then, some punks show up,' she admitted, 'but, it seems they get cleared out pretty quick.' He nodded, noting the anger sharp behind her eyes. She glanced at her watch, and apologized,

'I'm sorry, but I have to get to my other job.'

'No problem. Thank you,' Reese smiled, stepping away, with a wave. She headed across the street toward a Bus Stop sign, pulling out her phone. Reese immediately pulled his, and jacked her number.

He watched until she safely boarded the bus, then tapped back in to Finch.

'Which job is she headed to?'

'Nursing Home. I'll send you the address.'

Reese entered the brightly lit foyer of the nursing home, having doffed both tie and glasses. The receptionist gave him a bright smile, asked,

'How may I help you?'

Hi, John Royce. I'm screening facilities to care for my Uncle Harold, and was wondering if I could have a brief tour?'

''Uncle Harold'? ' Finch's voice huffed in his ear, and Reese just smiled as the receptionist called the floor manger to meet him.

'Charlie Green,' the man introduced himself, hand extended, a short, round, balding fellow with a cheery demeanor.

'John Royce,' Reese acknowledged, shaking the proffered hand.

'I understand you have a cherished family member in need of some special care?'

'Yes, my Uncle Harold. He is a bit eccentric, I'm afraid.' In his ear, Reese could almost hear Finch getting red with annoyance.

'Eccentric? Me?' he snorted, and Reese just smiled. Charlie turned, indicated Reese follow him. He replied,

' I can assure you, our staff is very highly trained to care for the needs of all our guests.'

Reese feigned interest in the spiel Charlie was droning as they toured the facility. As they rounded a corner, something caught Reese's attention; music. He stopped, held up his hand, which caused Charlie to pause, and smile.

'What's that?' Reese asked, brow wrinkled, and Charlie said, simply,

'Carolina.' To his puzzled expression, Charlie detoured from his tour, led Reese toward the beautiful swell of sound.

'Is that piano I hear?' Finch said, in his ear. Charlie led them to the doorway of the common room, which was full of both residents and visitors, all paying rapt attention to the woman at the piano. Reese had no idea what piece of music she was playing, just that it was flawlessly lovely.

'Carolina is one of our caregivers. It is a special treat when she has time to play for us,' Charlie said, clearly caught up in the music, himself. In his ear, Finch remarked,

'From what I am able to hear, it sounds as if Miss Salas has a true gift.'

'Now to be sure she gets to stay around and share it,' Reese agreed, grimly.

Reese hung around outside the Nursing Home, waiting for Carolina to go back for her afternoon shift at the school. Everything was going along so normal it was hard to believe the Machine had bothered to kick her number out.

'Are you sure you have the right person, Finch?' Reese wondered, watching the last stragglers leave the schoolyard for their buses or rides.

'All I've seen is a woman having a normal, boring day.' All at once, his peripheral vision kicked up an alarm, and he said,

'Wait, who's this?' and he sat up straighter in the car, pulled up binoculars. Three youths, wearing gang colors and swag, headed directly toward Carolina, who was standing alone on the sidewalk. Reese tapped up her phone so he could hear what was being said.

'Yo, Chica,' they hailed, menacing tones, circling her, and Reese got out of his car, ready to intervene, if necessary.

'You better not go testifyin', girl,' one of them said, leaning into her face with a rude finger, 'If you expect to keep on breathin'.' Reese was stuffing his phone into his pocket so he could move when another voice, strong and authoritative, broke in,

'Hey. You boys. Break it up.' All eyes whipped toward the man, clearly someone in authority from the school, coming out of the schoolyard, headed straight toward them.

'Get lost, before I call the cops,' he warned, loudly, and the three slunk off, tossing surly glares at both Carolina and the newly arrived man.

She faced him, with a timid smile, said,

'Thank you, Mr. Aldrich.' Her voice quavered, clearly frightened by what had just happened. Reese studied the man as he spoke. He was average height, blonde, suit and tie, groomed like a high-end professional. He sighed, gave a quick look to be sure her persecutors had gone, before he said, bluntly,

'They're harassing you about your testimony, aren't they?' and she hung her head, nodded.

'Why don't you just forget about it, Carolina? Is it worth it, to have a couple chumps off the street, for a few weeks?' She met his concerned face, with a stoic nod.

'Yes, sir, it is. I love the kids, here. However I can protect them, I will.' Mr. Aldrich shook his head, face a mix of annoyance and frustration.

'It's your decision, of course. I just wish you could change your mind, for your own sake.' He gave her one last frown, then headed back toward the school, was quickly out of sight. Reese relaxed slightly, tapped up Finch.

'Any way to get a bead on those punks, Finch?' He could hear Harold's fingers chattering away at the keyboard as he replied,

'I'm trying to find a security camera that might give us a look at them.' His tone was frustrated as he continued,

'For a school zone, it seems strangely devoid of surveillance.' Reese scowled, jaw working angrily as he watched Carolina take deep breaths, attempting to regain her composure.

'Who's this Aldrich?' he wanted to know.

'Certainly not someone I would prefer to have in charge of the safe-keeping of any child of mine,' Finch snapped, and after a few seconds, supplied, 'School Guidance Counselor.'

'A true role-model,' Reese snarked. After a few minutes, Carolina had calmed down enough to gather her gear together, and head for the Bus Stop across the street. She was halfway across when he heard the scream of a revving engine, and a dark green SUV barreled around the corner of the tree-lined avenue, straight for her. The sight froze her in her tracks, too terrified to move. Reese bolted, praying he'd be fast enough to beat the car to her.

'Carolina! Move!' he yelled, but she was so frightened she didn't even hear him. He hit her, hard, with his left shoulder, and rolled across the asphalt with her in his grip, bashing elbows and knees. It was so near a miss that he actually felt one of the tires graze his foot. He kept moving until they were on the sidewalk, where he sat her down. She was shaking, crying, nearly hysterical, and Finch was demanding,

'Mr. Reese? What just happened?' Reese ignored Finch, intent on two things; calming Carolina, and trying to get to his car fast enough to chase the bastard.

'Are you all right?' he demanded, forcing her to meet his gaze, and she managed a tearful nod.

'Go to the Nursing Home. Stay there, until I come get you. Don't call the police, or tell anyone else what happened,' he told her, and she gave a shuddering nod. Reese came to his feet, eyes traveling over his shoulder to try to spot where the SUV had gone. The throaty roar of a motorcycle suddenly filled his ears, and a silver and black bike squealed to a halt beside him. Angelica flipped her visor up, so he could identify her, snapped,

'Need a lift?' Reese had half a dozen questions to ask about what she was doing here, but it was more important to follow that SUV, and fast. He climbed on behind, grabbed hold around her waist, and Angelica gunned it. The bike was quick, and Angelica had a line on where she'd last seen the vehicle.

'Finch. Carolina was nearly run down by a green SUV, came from the north avenues,' Reese said, over the wind, and Finch shot back,

'On it. Checking traffic cams.'

'He turned east, three blocks from the intersection,' Angelica supplied, making the turn sharply, forcing Reese to hold on just a bit tighter. He hoped the driver would slow his escape, believing no one was following, but even after the turn, no SUV was in sight. Angelica eased off the throttle slightly, both scanning side streets for the suspect vehicle.

'Got something,' Finch alerted, 'green SUV moving south, toward the freeway. Take the next intersection. Can't get a plate.'

'Turn south,' Reese said in Angelica's ear. She nodded, complied, and Reese, tall enough to see easily over her shoulder, pointed,

'There.' Angelica got a visual, nodded, slammed the bike into high gear, was gaining fast. Reese pulled his gun, ready to rack a few rounds into the back window, when Angelica barked,

'Police Cruiser!' and braked down to the speed limit immediately. Reese stuffed his gun out of sight, beneath his jacket, cursing under his breath, as he spotted the car, two blocks up, sitting on a cross street to their left. She flipped on her turning signal, eased onto a side street which carried them out of the line of sight of the cruiser, but was the opposite direction they needed to be going.

'Is he following?' Angelica asked, checking her mirrors. Reese flicked a glance back, saw nothing, said,

'Nope. Finch, we had to detour.'

'I heard. I'm trying to relocate the SUV.' Angelica went several blocks before making the turns to orient them the proper direction, but they had nothing from Finch except silence. Reese tapped her shoulder and pointed for Angelica to pull over. As she did, he summoned,

'Finch, anything?' He heard a frustrated sigh from his friend, and an angry admission,

' I've lost him. Rush hour traffic.' Reese swung off the bike to pace, and Angelica killed the engine, climbed off beside him, pulled her helmet.

' There was a Faculty parking sticker on the left rear bumper,' she offered, loudly enough for Finch to hear.

'The school will have records. Checking for a match, now,' Finch said, briskly. Furious with everything that had just transpired, Reese needed an outlet for his frustration, so he came into her face, demanded,

'Why were you there?' Angelica didn't flinch, but her eyes narrowed angrily.

'I sent her,' Finch said, in his ear, preempting her reply, 'just for a drive through, to be certain everything was clear. Be happy I did.'

After a few seconds, Finch said,

'Got a match. Care to guess?' Reese ground his teeth tight, gritted out, decisively,

'Aldrich,' and decided to pursue his annoyance with Finch at a later date.

'Carolina's in a safe house, for the time being,' Finch informed Reese, as he came into the main room of the Library, 'but, I'm not certain there's much more we can do for her. There is no way to prove Aldrich tried to run her down, and we really don't even know why. He will most certainly be looking for another opportunity to take her out.'

'Which is why we're going to give him a second chance,' Reese informed Finch, a half-smile twisting his face. Partway to his chair, Finch halted, gave Reese an 'are you serious?' look, and said, incredulously,

'You aren't going to risk exposing Carolina?'

'Not exactly.' Reese indulged himself in a devious grin, flicked his eyes toward the opposite hallway. Finch sat, said,

'I'm not going to like this, am I?' and spun his chair.

'Probably not,' Reese replied, as Angelica stepped into the room, wearing Carolina's crossing guard jacket and hoodie, sporting a long, wavy black wig. Reese decided that he'd have given a couple hundred bucks for the look on Finch's face. Angelica just laughed, said,

'Relax, I'm wearing a vest.' She appeared quite happy to be involved in Reese's plan. Knowing her history, Finch could understand why. Still, he scowled, protested,

'What if he decides to cut your throat, instead of shooting you?' Reese straightened, crossed the room to add a couple extra clips of ammo to his pockets.

'He's a coward. He tried to run a woman down with a car. He wouldn't have the guts to use a knife.' He pulled his gun, racked a round ready, flicked the safety on, and tucked it into it's holster, eyes cold and brittle, added,

'Besides, no matter what he tries, he'll have to be faster than me.' Angelica grinned, gave Finch a covert glance, accompanied by a wink.

Finch raised his eyebrows, spun to face his keyboards and monitors, with a resigned sigh and a shake of his head.

'As usual, I'll be available in whatever capacity you require.' As Finch watched them leave, he had to admit that the likelihood that a school official could outmaneuver Reese, or Angelica, for that matter, in any capacity, was distinctly unlikely.

They waited until after midnight before executing the plan, so they could use the darkness to best advantage. The hallway outside Carolina's apartment way dimly lit , and Angelica made her way toward the door. She had pulled her hood up to cover her features, and moved furtively, as if she were afraid. She rattled the keys, somewhat loudly, to draw attention to herself, and turned the key, opened the door. She was just crossing the threshold when she heard the footsteps, but pretended she didn't. Two seconds later, the gun bumped between her shoulders, pushed her roughly into the dark apartment. She pretended to stumble, hands thrown up defensively, as Aldrich came in behind her, slammed the door shut, reconnected the gun barrel to her back, and snaked his other arm around her throat.

'You are a stupid bitch, Carolina' Aldrich sneered, in her ear. 'All you had to do was decide keep your mouth shut.' He gave a violent jerk, nearly rattled Angelica off her feet, and she ground her jaw tight, angrily, while feigning terror, and keeping her face turned away. There wasn't much light, only a harsh glow from the streetlights outside the windows, but she couldn't risk him realizing she wasn't Carolina.

'I get a lot of money, letting those punks sell drugs on school grounds. Easy money. All I have to do is look the other way. I got kids to send to College. Good kids, not scrap, like you.' He unwound his arm from her throat, stepped back, several steps. ' Those punks will rat me out in a second if they go to trial. I can't have that, so, I have to _shoot _you. Sure would've been easier if some Good Samaritan hadn't knocked you off the street.'

'Sorry to be so much trouble,' Reese said, a soft voice of terror, from the shadows at Aldrich's back, jerking him halfway around, looking for the source. Angelica heard him shift, so she spun, bashing him square in the nose with her elbow. As he buckled forward, she grabbed him by his hair with both hands, slammed his face soundly into her rising thigh. He let out a squall of pain, dropped his gun, landed on his knees, moaning and cradling his bloodied face. Reese kicked his gun away, then looked at Angelica, shocked. She met his gaze, eyes bright with anger, or excitement, poised to strike Aldrich if he moved, again. She shrugged, said simply,

'He _touched _me, without permission.' Reese just nodded, and gave the scumbag on the floor a good solid whack up the side of his skull, just to put him down for the count. Touched his ear, said in a satisfied tone,

'He's all wrapped up, Finch. His confession recorded nice and clear. Time to call in the troops.'

'I think perhaps we should give Detective Fusco the honors, this time,' Finch suggested, 'His son does attend this particular school. I'm certain he will be rather enthusiastic to be a part of ensuring the safety of the students.'

'Good call,' Reese approved, casting an amused eye on Angelica, as she began energetically duct taping Aldrich, turning him into an unmoving worm.

Sirens were audible, and red and blue lights danced along the buildings as Reese and Angelica sauntered casually away from the apartment building, side by side, not glancing behind. Reese carefully shot covert glances her way, curiosity over who she was, why she was here, stronger than before. She had some nice moves, and he wondered where she'd learned them, as well as what other surprises she might have up her sleeve.

She was chuckling, softly, brought a smile to Reese's features.

'What's so funny?' he wanted to know.

'Guy was a _total _idiot,' she informed him,' I'm a good four inches taller than Carolina. Thinner, too. He should've noticed.' Reese just shook his head, smile growing wider.

'I would have,' he said, and she laughed,

'I know,' slanting him a sly look. They walked another half block before she asked,

'Want a beer? You're buying.'

'Me?' Reese protested.

'I had to wear the vest. And, the wig,' she defended, making a face. Reese echoed her laugh, agreed,

Fair enough.'

Carolina stood in front of the piano at the Nursing Home, and faced her audience, smiled broadly. The room was filled, all the way out into the hallway.

'I think everybody here has heard about my…my adventure,' she confessed, with a small laugh, drawing a large response from the crowd, as well as some harsh comments called about the lineage of Aldrich. She held her hands up, and everyone fell silent.

' It was worth it, to have the opportunity to really make difference, for the kids at my old school. I'm proud that I could testify, against the drug dealers, as well as Ralph Aldrich.' There was a round of applause, and she let her eyes fall to her clasped hands before she spoke again.

' Who I really need to thank is my Guardian Angel. Without him, his help, I wouldn't be able to play for you, tonight.' The crowd fell completely silent, waiting. She looked across their faces, perhaps hoping to see him, but Reese had tucked himself, Finch, and Angelica, safely into a darkly shadowed corner.

'In his honor, I've chosen to play 'Music Of the Night', from Phantom of the Opera.'* After a second, she sat, let her hands fall to the keys, and began to play. Music thundered into the silence, roaring and triumphant, and Reese felt a chill run down his spine at the power behind the chords. He glanced at Finch, who was leaning his head back, eyes closed, a blissful smile on his face. Angelica had folded her arms, and it was clearly to prevent herself from getting carried away by the song. She was silently mouthing lyrics, which Reese didn't know, and suddenly wished he did. He felt very alone, here in this crowd, separated from them all by his past. Besides; him? An angel? He shook his head, realizing he was unworthy of such a designation. He had done many things that were far from angelic, and would no doubt do many more.

Angelica saw the sadness on his features, gave a soft smile, and leaned close.

'Who's your Guardian Angel, Reese? Or, don't you believe you deserve one?' He met her eyes, mustered a tiny smile, but nothing more. She sighed, then smiled, surprisingly gentle, and laid a comforting hand on his arm, for the briefest moment.

'Someone has to look after _you.' _He blinked, caught off guard by her gesture, her kindness. He really didn't know what to say to that. He'd always had to rely on himself. Of course, now he had Harold, but, for how long?

'In the end, we're all alone,' he said to her, feeling numb. Her eyes, unusually soft, met his, held, and she said, sadly,

'I sure hope not.' She glanced past him to Harold, who had apparently been paying more attention to them than Reese realized. She gave Harold a brief nod, said,

'See you tomorrow,' then made her way free of the crowd, and was gone. Reese watched her go, brow troubled. Finch, hoping to lighten his friend's mood, said,

'I've arranged for Carolina to continue her career in music. Such a beautiful gift should be shared, don't you agree?' Reese just looked across the crowd to Carolina, saw her passion and glory, and realized how alone he really was. Without a backwards glance, he shifted through the crowd, a ghost, or a shadow, and disappeared into the night. Finch's face fell into sadness, and he sighed, followed his two companions from the music filled room.

*All copyrights for this song belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber


	4. Chapter 4

Our story moves on! HUGE THANKS to everyone who has provided me with feedback, and is following this story. I promise plots twists and surprises, upcoming… even a little romance. As always, enjoy, and PLEASE R&R!

Chapter Three

Detective Carter flashed her badge at the brutal-looking bouncer guarding the door of the Club, knowing full well that two seconds after she crossed the threshold everyone inside would know exactly what she was: a cop. Not like she wouldn't be obvious, anyways; this was a club frequented by Russians, and the Russian Mafia, and she was clearly _not _Russian. She tossed a glance back to Fusco, her backup, leaning against their car, across the small parking lot, just under the street light. He gave a brisk nod, got his feet beneath him, ready to move, when necessary. She favored the bouncer with a snide smile before she went in.

The room was darker than the night outside, with low lighting, full of boisterous people and loud music, the smell of traditional Russian foods. She felt their eyes on her as she scanned the room, looking for John. She spotted him at the bar, back against it, right hand idly twirling the handle of a half empty beer mug. It surprised her that he actually blended in seamlessly with the crowd. With his dark hair, strong features, and severe expression, he could easily pass as a Russian. Who knew, maybe he actually _was._ She shook her head, annoyed, then made her way to stand by him. As always, he barely flicked her a glance of acknowledgement as he greeted, in a low tone,

'Detective.'

'A little ways away from home, aren't you?' she returned, keeping her own voice at a secretive level. Then he looked straight at her, and smiled. The implication was clear; they both were.

'Working late,' she observed, deadpan, scanning the room full of malicious stares, directed at her.

'So are you.' His tone was as flat as hers. She scoffed, replied, with a toss of her head,

'Only because of you.' He raised eyebrows, commented,

'I could just let Peter Yogorov get dead. He did take over after Elias executed his father, Ivan, and he's planning a war in retaliation.' She scowled, angrily, said,

'Then, why do you care? ' Reese met her gaze, his eyes ice cold and emotionless.

'I don't. I'm just doing my job, and that is to stop this guy from getting gunned down in cold blood. At least, not tonight.' She studied his face and realized he meant it; he really _didn't _care. She wanted to ask him why he would bother to intervene, then, but knew it was a waste of breath.

'Where is he?' she asked, instead, and, with a shift of his gaze, Reese indicated a closed door, directly opposite him. She nodded, knowingly. 'Business' was always conducted behind closed doors.

'Is Lionel with you?'

Carter nodded, supplied,

'Outside.'

Reese accepted the information, but never paused his twirling of the beer mug, or took his eyes off the door. He had no idea who was gunning for Yogorov, or when they would take a run at him, but his instincts favored tonight, inside, or maybe outside, his favorite Club. A demoralizing method of attack, to take down someone of power in a place they feel absolutely secure. A challenging moral dilemma, protecting one criminal from another; he'd done it, before, however unwittingly, and brought a world of chaos down on the city. While he hadn't said anything to Harold, he firmly believed that since Elias had managed a brief reprieve from incarceration, he was stepping up his campaign to be completely rid of anyone who refused to unite under him, and the Russians fit that bill.

'You might want to join him,' Reese suggested, with the tone of an order. His gaze shifted briefly toward the sullen attention that some patrons had focused on Carter, so she decided to make it look good.

' I'll be watching you, boy,' she offered, loudly, stabbing her finger at Reese's face, then exited the Club. Reese allowed himself to throw a sneer after her, for effect.

Once outside, she went to join Fusco, who gave her the 'what the Hell is going on?' face, and a confused shrug. She replied with a frustrated frown, shake of her head, hands stuffed into her pockets against the chill of early fall. She cast a wary gaze around them, not fond of how few streetlights there were in the neighborhood. There were a lot black holes where someone could be hiding.

'Guess we wait for a signal?' Fusco offered.

'I guess,' she agreed. A few seconds later, came the sound of gunshots from inside the club.

'Sounds like a signal,' Fusco observed, wryly. As Carter and Fusco pulled their guns, started toward the building, the roar of angry people rose inside, and then a man was flung out the door like a sack of potatoes, splinters and glass spraying across the ground. Carter realized he'd actually been thrown _through _the door, which was probably why he hadn't yet come to his feet. Reese stepped through the shattered doorway, to stand over the fallen man, kicked the gun from his limp hand. His gaze snapped sharply on Carter as she ran up, and the feral expression on his face stopped her in her tracks. He had a bleeding gash above his brow. For a few seconds he held her eyes with his, allowed her to see the truth of what he was. She blinked, shook off the terrified feeling that his stare had raised. A crowd was milling out into the night, calling for blood. Coming back to herself, Carter bellowed,

'Police! Everyone, _back off!_' From behind her, Fusco shouted,

'Carter! Look out!' jerking her around. A gunman had stepped out of the shadows to her left, and was leveling a gun in the direction of Yogorov, who was close behind Reese. She was between Fusco and the gunman; he had no shot. Her eyes went wide, her gun swiveled, when the fellow suddenly screamed, dropped his gun to the ground as _something _flashed through the air, hit his hand, and blood flew. Carter squinted, baffled, raised her weapon to fire as the felon reached to pick up his dropped firearm, then let out another scream as he jerked erect, grabbed at _something _stuck in his ass, and ran. It happened so fast, neither she nor Fusco had a chance to take a shot. Her keen gaze, military trained, raked the darkness, but there had been no muzzle flash, no gunshot, no sound at all. Fusco, lifted his gun, snapped,

'What the Hell..?' Carter spun back on Reese, had barely a second to see the amused twitch of a smile twist his face before he strode off, disappeared into the shadows. She blinked, sharply,realized she hadn't even tried to stop him from leaving. Damn. Too late now. Way too many things had just happened, all at once, and she'd have to try to sort it out later.

'This bastard tried to kill me,' Peter Yogorov snarled, accusingly, pointed at the man on the ground, moaning himself awake.

'Well, you all just get yourselves together for a ride downtown, where you can give us a statement,' she snapped back, absolutely furious, as Fusco rolled and cuffed the perp, dragged him to the car. Tossed him into the back seat, and called it in. Neither she, nor Fusco, paid any attention to the rider of the silver and black motorcycle, which faded out of the shadows on the other side of the street, and disappeared into the mottled light and dark of streetlights and night.

Once behind the wheel of his car, Reese tapped Finch up.

'Done, Harold,' he said, tiredly, looking at the gash above his left eyebrow in his visor mirror as he drove, wincing. His collar was red, where blood had run down; another shirt for the incinerator, he thought, ruefully. His knuckles were tattered and bloody, too.

'Yogorov lives to commit crimes, another day.'

Finch could hear the irritation in his voice, and knew they both had reservations about saving known felons. Finch sighed, resigned; he'd made the choice not to question the numbers as they came, and, as much as he might have liked to pass judgments, he refused to do so.

'Everything all right, Mr. Reese?' he queried, and Reese admitted, smile in his voice,

'I would like a cold beer.' Finch chuckled, answered,

'Here, or your favorite spot?'

'There,' Reese responded,' I've got a little cleaning up to do.'

'Understood,' Finch nodded, then said,

'Angelica?'

'On my way. I'm stopping for pizza, though,' she answered.

'Pepperoni, mushrooms, and bacon,' Reese put in his order, and Angelica laughed, queried,

'Finch? Requests?'

'Anything you care for is fine.'

Reese was cleaned up, the pizza had been decimated down to crust ends, and beer enjoyed before Reese brought up the night's earlier events.

'That was some nice shooting,' he commented, with an admiring glance, and Angelica smiled,

'Thanks,' clearly pleased with the compliment.

'I especially enjoyed the second shot,' Reese grinned, and Angelica gave a hearty laugh, took a swallow of beer. It seemed her amusement was infectious. Finch's eyebrows raised, and he looked between the two, curiously.

'I'm confused as to why getting an arrow in the posterior is amusing?' Reese laughed, lifting his beer, and Angelica just said,

' I wanted a shot that would get him to leave, not take him out. He takes the evidence with him.'

'Yeah, Harold. No sense letting anyone in on our new secret weapon, right?' Reese reasoned, allowing his gaze to linger just a few extra seconds on Angelica, and with a bit more sparkle than Finch was used to seeing. She didn't seem to notice, closing up the pizza boxes for disposal. He also made note of his use of the term 'our' in the phrase, not 'your'. Perhaps there was hope, after all. Allowing himself a slight smile, he continued,

'It was a good call, anticipating the presence of a second gunman. How did you know?' Reese shrugged, replied,

'That's how I would've planned it. Always have a backup.' Finch nodded, seriously,

'I'll remember that.'

Carl Elias gave a frustrated sigh, with a shake of his head. His underling shifted his feet, unhappy to bring a negative report to his boss.

'I must say, I am extremely disappointed that the opportunity to remove two obstacles at once wasn't capitalized on,' he said, adjusting his glasses as he studied the face of the man in front of him. The fellow squirmed, looked at the floor.

'It's rare that such an event would present itself, and very frustrating that it wasn't handled well.'

'We didn't know John would be at the Club, sir. It was a total surprise. Rudy was just following the Detective, and wound up there at the same time we were. We didn't have any chance to make a plan to take him out. Rudy tried to get a shot, but got an arrow in the ass, instead.'

Elias allowed himself an amused smile at the visual picture those words provided.

'So, now, we have not only lost the advantage of surprise with our Russian friends, we also missed a golden opportunity to rid ourselves of John.' He paused, reflecting on the information he'd just received.

'I must admit, I do admire John for having the foresight to provide himself some backup, even though he has no idea we're looking for him. Most unorthodox, as well. An archer? Interesting. Was anyone able to discover who it was?'

'No, sir.' Elias thought a few seconds, tucking hands in his pockets, before he asked,

'Which Detective was Rudy following?'

'Carter.' Elias nodded, knowingly.

'Keep on her, as well as Fusco. She'll lead us to him, again. Of that, I have no doubt.'


	5. Chapter 5

As always, thanks to all you who R&R, and are following my story. I appreciate it!

Chapter Four

Reese focused the camera, zoomed the lens, snapped a dozen shots. Lowering the camera, he allowed himself a satisfied smile, turned it off and clicked the lens cap on. Finch would love the shots of Fusco slamming their POI onto the hood of his car as he was being arrested. He touched his ear bud, dialing Finch.

'Wrapped, and delivered, Finch,' he said, as he turned to leave.

'Excellent news, Mr. Reese,' Finch responded, and Reese could hear the smile in his voice. 'Dinner is on me.'

'Good. I'm in the mood for Chinese,' Reese chuckled, hung up, and paused to do one last scan of the crime scene across the street before leaving. In the crowd of a dozen uniforms, he caught the eye of Detective Carter, giving him a glare. His smile faded, and he clenched his jaw tight, completely ignored her. As he strode away, he knew she had crossed the street, begun to follow him, and he was having none of it. He didn't owe her any explanations, and it really irked him that she couldn't just be happy to have one more dirt bag off the streets. Sure, she had to do some fabrications to cover his part in the arrests she and Fusco made, but that was part of the arrangement. They got cleaner streets, he was able to care for the numbers. He'd been deliberately ignoring or deflecting her queries about the night of Yogorov's intended assassination; she was desperately trying to piece together what exactly had happened with the outside gunman. He pleaded ignorance, but, of course, she didn't buy it, and she was really getting pissed off about it. Not my problem, he growled to himself.

They definitely had an odd friendship, or perhaps, more accurately, partnership, but there had to be restrictions on exactly how much familiarity he could allow her to have. Familiarity led to carelessness, and that was dangerous for all concerned.

It didn't take him more than two blocks to be rid of her. From his chosen cover he looked back, allowed himself a tight smile over the annoyance on her face as she realized he'd given her the slip. He cast one final glance across the streets, just to be certain Carter hadn't changed directions, then headed toward where he'd parked his car. He didn't bother to notice the silver and black motorcycle, which pulled up between two cars. As he disappeared from view, it's rider stopped to snap photos of Detective Carter's retreating form.

Finch and Reese were having a good laugh over the photos of Fusco and his furious suspect. Fusco was having way too much fun slamming the felon against the car hood, but both men could easily admit the jerk had it coming. Reese took a long swallow of the celebratory cold beer Finch had thoughtfully provided.

'Another good day, Mr. Reese,' he said, the smile reaching his eyes. Reese nodded in agreement, and propped his feet up on the tabletop. Even that failed to draw a glare, which meant Finch really was in a good mood.

'What did I miss?' a woman's voice asked, from behind them, spinning Reese around, quickly, as he came lightly to his feet. Angelica gave him an 'oh, come on,' look, head tilted, eyebrows raised, and held up her hands, displaying two bags bearing the name of Reese's favorite Chinese restaurant.

'I asked Angelica to pick up the food. I hope you don't mind,' Finch explained, as he stood. She leaned over, gave the photos onscreen a look, followed with a laugh, shook her head.

'Nice,' she commented, indicating the pictures.

'Dinner is served. And, I brought a movie,' she added, setting the bags down to pull the case from her jacket, handed it to Reese. He took it, read,

' Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?' with a confused twist to his face. Angelica shrugged, said,

'Classic Redford and Newman. An oldie, but a goodie.' She leaned close, a sly sparkle in her eye, informed Reese,

'I like movies. Ever seen this?' Reese shook his head, favoring Finch with a confused look, which Finch ignored.

'Awesome!' Angelica enthused, taking the DVD from his hand.

'It's an outlaw-buddy story. I thought you two would especially enjoy that.' Reese looked at Finch, who shrugged, admitted dryly,

'We do resemble that remark,' and headed toward the small refrigerator just around the corner.

'Next time, you can pick the flick,' she consoled, turning to unpack the food.

''Next time'?' Reese echoed, as Finch reappeared, carrying a beer, which he uncapped, then traded it to Angelica for the DVD. She accepted the brew with a smile, and a

'Thanks!'

Finch turned to Reese, nodded, explained,

'I felt it would be good therapy for both of us to relax and escape from the rigors of our….difficult employment…occasionally.' Reese didn't understand, but he was also really hungry, the food smelled delicious, and actually, he couldn't recall the last time he'd watched a movie. Plus, the prospect of spending a little time with someone other than Finch, well, specifically, with Angelica, was pleasantly attractive. She'd been notably absent from his work with the last two numbers, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he'd wished there had been a reason to call her in. Apparently, however, she'd been quite occupied dealing with whatever Finch's 'special project' for her was. His eyes narrowed as that memory crossed his mind; he needed to spend some time finding out what Finch was up to that called for Angelica's help. He decided that tomorrow was a good time to add that project to his list.

The empty Chinese food containers had all been piled neatly back into the bags, a half-dozen empty beer bottles stacked in an orderly row alongside. The end credits of the movie had just begun to roll across the screen as Reese drained the last swallow of his beer. The room was dark, except for the glow from the monitor, and the faint glow of the streetlights, outside the windows. Behind him, he heard a faint snore; Finch. Reese smiled, shook his head. Finch hadn't even made the halfway point of the movie. He glanced over at Angelica, sitting next to him, swirling the final swig of her beer around in the bottom of the bottle. She caught his look, turned, asked,

'Did you like it?' Reese thought for a few seconds, enduring her expectant stare, finally admitted, with a smile, and a slight nod,

'Yeah, it was pretty good.' Angelica broke a wide smile, downed the last of her brew. She tossed a fond grin over her shoulder at Finch, expression gentle, and Reese could see she had some type of history with his employer. So, maybe, he wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow to start his enquiry into her. Plus, his curiosity was piqued, so Reese turned his chair slightly toward her, asked,

'How did you and Finch meet?' Angelica studied his face, a small furrow in her brow, lips tight, as if deciding whether or not to answer.

Reese was patient, kept his features soft and open, though her eyes, quite pretty, even in this low light, were rather distracting. At last she sighed, leaned over to set her bottle with the others on the tabletop.

'I was Finch's first,' she said. Reese blinked, unable to keep shock from claiming his features, at least for a few seconds.

'His first? ' he blurted out, and Angelica gave him an evil glare, knowing exactly what had popped into his mind.

'_Number_. The first number he saved.' She gave an annoyed snort, advised, ' Mind out of the gutter, Reese.' Reese was happy it was dark in the room, as it made it much easier to hide his flustered expression. She looked away, studied the blue glow of the monitor.

'I owe him,' she said, quietly. Reese let the idea sink in for a minute before venturing, a gentle tone,

'Who did he save you from?' Her chin dropped to her chest, her face a study in sorrow, but pulled herself back up, met his eye squarely. Clearly, she had come to terms with whatever had happed.

'Myself.' The tone was so bleak, so lost, it hurt to hear it. She could see he was confused, so she sighed, closed her eyes, gathered her thoughts. Looked back at the monitor, as if it was too hard to say the words while looking at someone.

'You know what I mean, Reese, you've been there. My story is written on your face. Handled, lied to, used, abused,…discarded. Lost everyone…family, friends...come to the edge of the cliff, and very nearly stepped off. Alone. A ghost, living in the shadows.' Reese felt a pang in his chest, because, of course, she was right. Was he really that transparent? Especially to a stranger?

'He was there, the night I almost took that step. I'd written out my goodbyes, to the few acquaintances I had left…my CO, some of my comrades in arms. Had the gun, and a hollow point bullet for it. I was eating, what I figured was my last meal, at my favorite restaurant. When this funny little man sat down across the table from me. His eyes were so sad, sympathetic, like a little bird, feathers all fluffed up in a cold wind. He said, 'Don't do it, Angelica. There is so much more you can accomplish with your life.''

Reese allowed a smile to touch his lips at her description of Finch. Now that he thought about it, he did rather resemble an annoyed bird, at times. Then the truth of her words really hit him; she _was _telling his story. He'd been to that point, wishing for death, actively courting it, even, and then Finch had found him. Angelica looked back to him, and he could see his sadness mirrored in her eyes. Suddenly he realized he'd leaned forward, laid his arm sympathetically across the back of her chair, and they were very close. Quickly, he sat back. If she noticed, or it bothered her, she gave no indication.

'So,' she continued, a brighter tone, ' a couple weeks ago, when he got a hold of me, asked for a favor, I couldn't say no.' She faced him, the vulnerability completely erased from her face. She'd become the competent, tough woman he'd first met. A practiced façade.

'I really don't care how Finch does what you guys do, here. I'm just glad that he was right, about me.' Studying his expression, she asked, bluntly,

'Was he right, about you?'

Reese thought a second before replying, uncertainly,

'I'm still working that out.' She smiled, a gorgeous wide grin, true humor, and shook her head. Behind them, Finch sighed, shifted in his chair, and jolted awake. Saw both of them looking at him, mumbled,

'How did it end?' and they both laughed.

'Everybody died,' Angelica joked, and then she winked, 'Don't believe me. I always say that, about every movie.' Finch managed a grumpy scowl, stretched stiffly, as Reese moved to flip on some lights.

'See you in the morning,' Angelica said, to Finch, as she gathered up the empties and the trash, picked up her helmet. Shared another smile with Reese over her shoulder, said, seriously,

'Watch your back, Reese,' and disappeared down the dark hall. He made a confused face over that remark; he _always _watched his back. He let it go in favor of another line of questioning.

'What did you tell her, about me?' Reese asked, but he wasn't angry, as he met Finch's gaze. Finch looked straight at him, adjusted his glasses, said,

'Nothing, Mr. Reese. I didn't have to. In case you hadn't noticed, she has excellent powers of observation, like yourself. Besides, your stories are very similar.' A slight scowl furrowed Reese's brow, but he knew better than to question Finch any further about her, or her 'similar story'. For a man who had never learned to endure interrogation, he was damn good at doing so. Finch could see the renewed curiosity floating around behind Reese's eyes, and he offered,

'I'm certain that, when you are both ready, she'll tell you whatever it is you'd like to ask.'

'Really,' Reese scoffed, 'What is that supposed to mean?' but Finch just looked back at him with that enigmatic expression he saved for when he was done answering questions, and came to his feet. Reese sighed, resigned, but realized he was rather excited at the prospect of unraveling yet another mystery surrounding someone he knew.

'_I'll _see you in the morning, too,' Reese reminded. Finch just looked at him, expression completely neutral, replied,

'Of course you will. Good night, Mr. Reese.'


	6. Chapter 6

Hey to all my followers! Sorry this took so long; a lot had to happen in this chapter for the story to REALLY get rolling. Everything that came before this is like the long, big first hill of a rollercoaster. This chapter is the top of the hill, and from here on out all hell is going to break loose! AS always, please R&R!

Chapter Five

'YO! Rooney! Not that container!' Reese braked the jitney to a halt, threw a questioning look at his boss, Tony Savacchio. Tony strode angrily across the deck of the ship, clipboard held like a weapon. When he got close, he leaned in to speak to Reese. His tone was neither friendly, nor polite. It was, however, very loud. His dark brown eyes were angry, weathered face covered in three days growth of black hair. His hardhat read 'Da Boss', and he was so short he was nearly on tiptoes to get in Reese's face, even with him sitting in the jitney.

'Look, I know you're a temp, but, you gotta just do what I say, right? Don't unload nothin', unless I tell ya. Don't go nowhere, unless I tell ya.' He jabbed the clipboard at Reese, casting an uneasy eye across the deck towards a grey-bearded man, built like a bear, talking animatedly to a taller, distinguished-looking man with sandy blonde hair, who were reviewing their own clipboards and comparing notes. Reese gave a blank nod, suppressed a shiver, decided he needed to buy some warmer clothes before tomorrow. He'd never spent time on the deck of a cargo ship, before, and was absolutely certain that, as soon as this job was finished, he would never do it, again. The autumn air, especially this late in the afternoon, was getting brisk, and, when added to the spray which blew across the decks, made this number one of the most miserable ones he'd had to deal with, yet. He'd felt perpetually damp, through to the bone, since early morning. The hardhat was incredibly annoying, and was giving him a headache.

Tony gave his watch a glance, shook his head, irritably, and grouched,

'End of shift, Rooney. No overtime, for temps. Same shift, tomorrow, right?' Reese nodded, turned his jitney, and headed back to park it on the charger before clocking out. He stepped off the ship, onto the dock, and was surprised when he first few steps were a bit unsteady.

'Sea legs, already, Mr. Reese?' Finch said, tone slightly amused, in his ear. Reese glanced briefly at the security cam poised at dock's edge, and made a snark-y face. Then he pulled his stocking cap tight over his ears, and headed for his car, with it's really good heater. He stopped by the lunch trailer on his way, grabbed a large hot coffee to assist him in warming up, while he waited for Tony to finish his shift. He'd overheard him making plans to join some of the others at a local bar for food and beer, so that would be his next stop for the day. He shivered, sipped his coffee, and held his free hand over the heater vent.

'Any ideas about who's looking for our guy, Finch?' Reese queried, and Finch responded,

'I confess to having little or no knowledge about the world of international shipping, Mr. Reese. However, I'm certain that real power lies in the hands of the owners of these lines.'

'You mean, real _money_,' Reese clarified, and he pictured Finch nodding.

'I may call on Ms. Morgan, once again. Her unique insights on such matters have been invaluable in the past.' Reese smiled, agreed,

'You're probably right; international politics, big money, payoffs, blackmail,…right down her alley.'

'Give me the location of the establishment you will be visiting, this evening, and I'll direct Ms. Morgan to you with any information she feels is pertinent.'

'Wow, John, just when I thought I'd seen the worst spots in the city, you manage to surprise me.' Zoe's voice slid into his ear, like velvet, and she allowed her lips to gently brush his earlobe. Reese found himself smiling, eyes on Zoe Morgan as she slid onto the barstool opposite him. She had definitely dressed down, which was a good idea in this neighborhood, especially after dark. She'd pinned her hair up in a neat braid, gone with minimal makeup, light on the jewelry. Even so, she more than did justice to the red turtleneck sweater and tight black skinny jeans she wore. It was beyond obvious that she didn't belong here. She returned his smile, dark eyes holding his boldly. There was nothing subtle about Zoe, Reese decided.

'Thanks for meeting me, here,' Reese offered, and she assured him,

' No problem. You'll be paying extra, for that.' Her gaze roamed the noisy bar, full of rowdy dockworkers and rough-looking women. She scanned what he was wearing, jeans, a black tee, leather motorcycle jacket, rather than his usual ensemble. He didn't want to stand out in this crowd, but wanted, instead, to blend in. The music thumped loudly enough they had no concerns about being overheard.

'I already owe you a drink,' Reese reminded her, and she smiled, broadly.

'Yes, you do…but, not here.' The expression on her face made it very clear she wasn't about to stay any longer than necessary. Zoe slipped an envelope from her coat pocket, slid it across the table to him.

'Three possible suspects, who have a problem your man,' she said, and tapped the envelope with her perfectly manicured finger.

'Everything's in here.' Casually, Reese laid his hand over hers, let it linger a second, before freeing the envelope, to tuck it safely into his jacket. He caught a slight hint of her perfume, barely distinguishable in the less than clean atmosphere around them. She just raised an eyebrow, let a playful smile tug her lips. It wasn't easy to rattle Zoe's composure, and she had no qualms whatsoever about letting him know just how interested she was in him.

'Thanks. I'll get a check in the mail,' he assured her. Her gaze suddenly sharpened, and her posture stiffened as another woman, not a waitress, stepped up to the table. Reese glanced over, met Angelica's guarded smile with one of his own. Angelica gave Zoe a brief perusal before returning her attention to Reese. Unlike Zoe, Angelica didn't stand out in the crowd, dressed in her black leather pants, a rock band tee under her leather jacket.

'Zoe Morgan, this is Angelica. She's …helping out,' Reese offered, by way of introduction. Zoe's expression had gone from surprise to suspicion, and she said, with a toss of her head, and a brittle smile, directed at Angelica,

'Just 'Angelica'?' Angelica gave a tight smile, not intimidated, said briefly, eyes blue-green daggers in the low light,

'Works for Beyonce', and Prince.' Reese couldn't help but chuckle, but clearly Zoe was not impressed, and she made that quite clear in the glare she shot him.

Ouch. He might pay for that, later. Oh, well. Zoe didn't own him. She'd just have to get over it.

Reese fished the envelope from his jacket, passed it to Angelica, who took it, hid it in a deep pocket of her own coat. He tried to read Angelica's reaction to Zoe. Actually, he was more interested in her reaction to his flirting with Zoe, but it was impossible to read; she'd pasted on a perfectly neutral expression as she met his eye. Gave him a sharp nod, then disappeared into the crowd toward the front door without a backwards glance. She'd pass the info on to Finch, who would bring him up to speed as soon as possible, so Reese could remain here and keep up surveillance on Tony. Reese flicked his attention to their Person of Interest, sitting, and boozing, rather loudly, with his co-workers, at a booth just three tables away from him. It looked like he was in for a long night. He let his gaze slide back to Zoe, who was eyeing him thoughtfully. He had no idea what was going on behind those eyes, but with Zoe, there was always something more than you might expect.

'I've never seen Angelica around, before,' she commented, a tilt of curiosity to her head.

'She's never been around, before,' Reese replied, putting up his own wall of secrecy. Zoe wasn't above mining information from him; it was her stock and trade to know things that no one else did, and no query from her could ever be mistaken for casual curiosity. She gave a slow nod, followed by a deliberate smile.

'Good night, John,' she said, her tone not quite as open as it had been before Angelica had shown up.

'Zoe,' Reese acknowledged, and watched to be certain she left the bar safely. Plenty of eyes turned to follow her departure, but no one offered anything other than a wolf whistle, which didn't even turn Zoe's head. She had to be used to it, Reese figured, then sighed, gave the waitress a nod of thanks as she delivered his supper, a cheeseburger and fries. He hoped it was good; Tony and his crew had just called for another pitcher, and it's wasn't likely it would be their last.

When Reese was finally able to get to the Library, there wasn't much time between him, dawn, and his shift at the docks. He was ready to sleep a few hours; Tony had finally gone home, having closed down the bar. Once Reese was certain he was safe, he set up a wireless camera to notify Finch when Tony left the house. He'd also jacked his phone, so any calls he received would also alert him to the need to move. He wasn't surprised to find Finch still hard at work, peering closely at his monitors; it was a little unexpected to find Angelica there, sitting close to his left shoulder, studying whatever was on screen, with him. She flicked a glance of welcome toward Reese as he came close to see what had them both so entranced.

Finch twisted, his familiar, stiff gesture, toward Reese, greeted,

'You're just in time, Mr. Reese.'

'For what?'

'The big show,' Finch murmured, zooming the dock camera toward a container in the furthest shadows, at the stern of the ship. Reese leaned in, between Angelica and Finch, then squinted at the blurry images onscreen. After a second, he was able to make out the shapes of jitneys, lights deliberately off, maneuvering crates into said container, as well as two or three other men, on foot.

'That doesn't appear to be Union sanctioned labor,' Reese commented, dryly, drawing a chuckle from both Finch and Angelica.

'Savacchio marked that container as loaded, yesterday morning,' Reese commented, frowning thoughtfully.

'So, no one has any further need to go near it,' Finch observed, tapping up the ship's manifest on a separate screen.

' The ship is due to finish loading by the end of this week. That means this particular container will very quickly be barricaded by others, and, for all intents and purposes, be virtually invisible.'

Reese straightened, puzzled, took a couple steps away, to think, then wondered,

'How are they hiding this from the Harbor Police? They do random patrols, lights out, silent engines. There's enough background noise you'd never hear them coming. Plus, there is pretty heavy foot security. You couldn't use radios. Phones would be risky…never know who might be eavesdropping.' Finch quirked an amused eyebrow, suppressed a smile,

'Indeed, you're right.'

'Also, kind if tough to get a message quickly to an entire crew, spread out across the deck, on a phone.'

Angelica was still watching the footage intently, just listening, when she pointed, suddenly, at something onscreen.

'See? Right there. That's how they're coordinating it.' Finch's attention returned to the screen, and he squinted, trying to understand what he was seeing.

'It's just…flashes of light,' he scowled, tapping the image larger, rewinding the footage. Reese stepped back in behind Finch, was ready to reveal to Finch what it was when Angelica told him,

'No, it's Morse Code. They're alerting, and messaging, with Morse Code. That one just said, 'heads up, harbor patrol'.

Reese gave her a startled look.

'You can read that?'

'Of course I can read Morse Code,' she huffed, 'who doesn't? See, everyone has disappeared,' Angelica said, certainly.

'I, for one, must admit I do not read Morse code,' Finch informed her, with a grudging tone of respect, and noticing that, just as she'd said, the warning had been received, and all activity aboard the deck had gone dark.

'Really, Finch? All the complex codes you know, that's not one of them?' Reese commented, quite surprised, and tickled to have the opportunity for a little teasing at Finch's expense. Finch looked to Reese, said, irritably,

'While I'm flattered that you believe I am a 'Master of All Things Code', there really is no way to have a working knowledge of them all.' He turned his attention back to the screen, said thoughtfully,

'There is something to be said for simplicity. As I recall, Morse is simple, elegant, and barely used, nowadays. Perfect for sending messages that won't be intercepted by the authorities.' Finch came to his feet, and Reese followed him over to three photos, which had presumably been provided by Zoe, taped alongside the one of Tony. Angelica continued to study the video footage onscreen, and tapping away at a keyboard Finch had given her permission to access.

'Patrick O'Shea, owner of Green Isles Shipping, where Tony works,' Finch pointed to the picture of a black haired young man with cruel blue eyes and a harsh grin. 'His Grandfather started the business, he just recently took over running it.' Reese gave a slight shake of his head, indicating he'd never seen him before.

'Donovan Grey, head of the local dockworkers' Union,' Finch indicated the grey bearded man with a bear-like scowl in the second picture, 'And, Donnie Parker, Port Authority,' a tall man with sandy-blonde hair and a GQ look.

Reese pointed at the last two, said,

'Both these guys were on board, today. Tony seemed pretty shook up with whatever they were doing there.'

'Apparently, there have been several incidents involving cargo from Mr. O'Shea's ships being brought in-country, or shipped out, without the proper clearances or inspections. On each occasion, the investigations were either dropped, or suspended, due to lack of evidence.'

Reese tapped the photo of Parker, mused,

'Head of the Port Authority? He could easily warn the crew, so they could duck out of sight on a security pass.'

'I would also imagine that the head of the Union could readily provide a wide selection of workers looking to add to their incomes, off the clock,' Finch added.

' O'Shea would make a lot of money, just by ignoring one or two extra containers that somehow ended up on the ship, that weren't on the manifests,' Reese said.

After a moment of thought, Finch, added,

'Perhaps Mr. Savacchio has spotted discrepancies in the paperwork, and these three want him out of the way.'

'They're smuggling,' Reese finally said, and Finch nodded, agreement,

'In, or out, of the country. Probably both.'

'What?'

'No idea.'

'Weapons,' Angelica said, from behind, turning them to face her. She looked up, turned the screen to face them, said, flatly,

' Check out 'Green Isles' home port.' Her finger indicated the exact address of the company's home offices; Ireland. Reese immediately met her gaze, understood.

'IRA,' he growled. She nodded, then shared a look with Finch that Reese didn't understand. Finch pursed his lips into an expression that meant he knew something Reese didn't, but he wasn't about the say what that was. Reese scowled, almost asked, decided to wait for a more opportune moment; like, when Angelica wasn't there.

'I'd say this number just got a lot more dangerous,' he said, instead, drawing a grim look from both Finch, and Angelica.

'We may want to bring in Detectives Carter, and Fusco, on this,' Finch offered, and Reese shook his head.

'Not yet. We need to put the smugglers in proximity to what they're smuggling. It's the only was they'll be able to make any charges stick.'

'How do you suggest we do that?' Finch wondered, and Reese shook his head.

'I'm pretty sure that if we give them enough rope, they'll hang themselves. If they ship out, end of the week, they only have a small window to finish getting the goods on board. I'd lay odds on tonight as their last chance to load any contraband, especially if they want to bury the containers out of sight.'

Finch met Reese's gaze, and gave a nod,

'I'm certain you're right, Mr. Reese.'

'I may want to borrow Angelica, to provide some on-site back-up. Unless, of course, you can't spare her from your project, Finch,' Reese said, eyebrows raised, questioningly, wearing an expression of exaggerated innocence, and paying very close attention to the looks Finch exchanged with her. Angelica seemed pleasantly surprised, and pleased, by the request, but clearly deferring to whatever Finch decided; Finch thought about it, not more than a second, before nodding, which confused Reese, even more.

' If you feel her presence would be valuable, she absolutely may assist you, if she would care to.'

'_Hell_, yes,' Angelica agreed, immediately, and very enthusiastically. Finch carefully stifled a grin, and suggested,

'You both may want to get some rest, then. Tomorrow evening might very well be rather busy.'

The last shift was clearing the deck, calling goodnights and arranging where to meet for food and beer. From his perch atop a stack of containers at the stern of the ship, Reese watched closely, through his night vision binoculars.

'Hey, Tony! You comin' out, tonight?' one of his regular drinking buddies called, and Tony waved him away.

'Nah, I gotta ton of paperwork to finish, before tomorrow.'

'Ah, new Boss a slaver, huh?' and Tony gave a forced laugh, focusing on his clipboard as his buddy wandered off into the night. A moment later, Tony's phone rang. After a nervous glance at the caller ID, he answered,

'Mr. O'Shea, Sir.'

'I'm on my way, Savacchio,' a sharp edged voice snapped, ' Be there when I get on board. And, have those manifests I asked you about, earlier today.'

'Sounds like things are going to get interesting,' Reese commented, softly, knowing both Angelica and Finch were listening.

Clearly concerned about a visit from his Boss, Tony nodded, replied earnestly,

'Yes, Sir.' The line went dead, and Tony glared angrily at the screen a few seconds before jamming the phone into his pocket. He gave a furtive scan of the area, then pulled a flashlight, aimed it toward the docks, flashed a message.

'What's this?' Reese murmured, not able to get an angle to read what Tony was sending.

'I haven't got line of sight, Reese,' Angelica chimed in, 'Relocating. Maybe I'll get a better view.'

'Finch?' Reese said, and Finch replied,

'On it. Give me a moment.' Reese came up on his elbows, scanned the area. He spotted Angelica, swirling along the tops of containers, stacked opposite him, a shadow darker than the night.

'The message was an all-clear signal, Mr. Reese,' Finch supplied, just as Reese spotted a dozen dark-clad figures emerging from the shadows of the docks, coming on board.

'What's going on?' Reese wondered, even more confused when he saw that Donovan Grey was one of them.

'This doesn't look good,' Reese murmured.

'He's comin', ' Tony snapped at Grey as he got close, and Grey nodded, with a nasty smile,

'Perfect.'

'Right. All phones, turned off, in here,' Tony ordered, holding out a bag. Everyone, including Tony and Grey, complied, and Reese gave a sharp scowl. Now they had no ears on what was happening. Grey indicated to the men to disperse, and they quickly spread out to hide in the darkest areas of the deck. Reese came carefully to his feet, said,

'We've lost audio, Finch. I'm going to ground, see if I can get closer.'

'Be careful,' Finch warned, added,

'Angelica?'

'All set, Finch. I've got eyes on, no worries.'

Reese made his way to the deck, a tricky prospect in the near blackness created by the narrow space between stacked containers.

He maneuvered he way toward the container they'd seen being loaded, after hours, the night before, when Finch's voice alerted him,

'Mr. O'Shea has just come on board.' Reese edged his way to the fringe of the shadows, identified the sound of two voices, heading straight for him.

'…just like you asked, Mr. O'Shea,' Tony was saying, and Reese leaned out to see O'Shea studying a clipboard by flashlight, an angry scowl twisting his face. Tony was lighting their path with a very bright flashlight, and Reese ducked back as it passed across the corner where he was hiding.

The two stopped in front of the container, and O'Shea demanded,

'This one?'

'Yes, Sir. I checked it out, myself, after you asked me to.'

'Open it,' O'Shea ordered. Tony's expression folded into a sneer, and he took a step away from his boss.

'Well, now, _Sir, _I'll have to call in some help, for that.' A floodlight blazed on, nearly blinding Reese, who was peeking around the corner, as well as O'Shea, who ducked, held up his palm, shielding his eyes.

'What the Hell..?' O'Shea barked, as Grey and six other men emerged from behind Tony.

'I think you should get a real close look at this cargo,' Tony snapped, and gave his boss a brutal shove, knocking him to the deck.

'This is _really _not good,' Reese decided, and Finch chimed in, worry strong in his tone,

'It appears we were concerned about the wrong person. It seems Mr. O'Shea is the one in danger.'

Four of the men with Grey stepped up, hauled one of the heavy container doors open, so light could spill into the interior. Grey dragged O'Shea to his feet, forced him forward, then kicked him to his knees, while Tony pried open one of the crates, closest to the door. Reese pulled his gun, inched as close as he could without loosing cover. Tony reached in, pulled a grenade launcher from the crate, and flaunted it in O'Shea's face with a brutal laugh.

'Mr. Reese?' Finch's voice snapped, alarmed, and Reese hissed, teeth gritted,

'It's not loaded. Too unsafe to ship it that way.'

O'Shea, still being held on his knees, was staring at Tony in stunned silence. Tony made a loud 'Ka-BOOM' sound as he leveled the launcher toward his boss. Grey and the others broke into harsh laughter, and Tony laid the weapon back into the crate.

'You bastards are smuggling weapons, on _my_ ships?' O'Shea spat, furiously, struggling against the grip of the men holding him, to no avail.

'Sure. Weapons, drugs, anything we can turn a profit on. This lovely lot is heading home, to Ireland, to help out our good customers, the IRA.' O'Shea gave a snarl, spit at Tony's feet.

'You're smarter than your Father,' Tony jeered,' Too bad. He never noticed the discrepancies on our manifests.'

'We'll see how smart he is after we ship him to North Korea in the back of a container,' Grey threatened, motioned for the men to lift O'Shea to his feet, and fishing a gun from his jacket.

' After six months in one of these, there won't be enough left to bother dumping in the ground.'

'I believe we've got enough evidence, Mr. Reese,' Finch said, urgently, and Reese nodded, agreement, said,

I believe you're right.' He braced his feet, preparing to jump in and break up the party.

'Angelica,' Reese said, quietly, 'you're up.' He thought he heard her laugh, and a split second later, Grey reeled, dropped his gun, and splatted face-first on the deck, a feathered shaft sticking out of his back. Tony and the other men jumped back, totally confused, began pulling weapons of their own, looking around frantically, but it was too late. Another man fell, grabbing at the arrow sticking out of his chest. Reese stepped into the light, and started shooting knees. His peripheral vision warned of the others, emerging from the shadows, but arrows seemed to sprout from their chests faster than they could raise their guns. To a man, they were absolutely terrified by the eerie silence of the attack. None of them knew where to look, which made Reese's job a lot easier. Reese zeroed in on Tony, but before he got him in his sights, Tony jerked forward, grabbed O'Shea around the throat, and dragged him away, gun leveled to his head.

'Detective Fusco and some Officers have just arrived, dockside, Mr. Reese. They'll be on deck any moment,' Finch informed, briskly, and Reese could hear them shouting at the bow end of the ship. Tony heard them, too, and realized his escape options had just narrowed considerably.

With the rest of Tony's crew down, Reese honed in on Tony, gun leveled unwaveringly his direction, face twisted into a fierce mask.

'Let him go, Tony. You've got nowhere to run,' he snapped.

'Ha!' Tony laughed, as he got close to the edge of the deck, threw a glance down at the water.

'Reese, I've got Harbor Patrol coming up, portside,' Angelica's voice warned in his ear, and he could tell she was running. Tony gave O'Shea a sharp push, toward Reese, then turned and leapt into the water.

Reese stepped to the edge of the deck, looked down into the cold water, saw Tony swimming for the Harbor Patrol boat, which had cut it's engines, was coasting up alongside. He gave a harsh smile, and waited. He was vaguely aware that Patrick O'Shea had come to stand alongside, yelling,

'What are you doing? He's getting away!' Reese shook his head, glanced at O'Shea with a self-satisfied expression, said,

'That's what he thinks.'

Tony Savacchio splashed his way to the boat, grabbed a hold of the rope tossed his way. Reese narrowed his eyes, recognized the face of Donnie Parker, leaning over to drag his accomplice on board. Tony was ranting, even before he was out of the frigid water,

'Donnie! What are you waiting for? Get us out of here!' Parker hauled him over the rail, dumped him unceremoniously to the deck, and backed away. Tony struggled to sit up, flapping like a fish out of water, to open his mouth, begin bellowing orders, but suddenly found a great reason to clap his mouth back shut. Detective Carter had stepped in, gun leveled at him. A quick glance at the Officers behind her, snapping handcuffs on Parker, convinced Tony to drop the gun he was still holding. She barked, fiercely,

'Police, Mr. Savacchio. You, Parker, and all those other sorry asses up on deck, are under arrest.'

Carter flashed an annoyed, but smug, glance up toward Reese, whose only response was to tuck his gun away, and move away from the edge of the ship. O'Shea fell in, right alongside him, babbling questions, which Reese completely ignored. He was focused on Fusco, leading the way across the deck toward them, gun at the ready, as his men began to fan out, corral the downed felons, spread like confetti across the other side of deck. Fusco had nearly met them, when a lone man bolted from cover, gun leveled right at O'Shea, who froze, pure terror. Reese immediately dropped into a defensive stance, gun hand flashing like lightning, but just before he shot, an arrow cut thru the night, buried itself into the would-be shooters' bicep. He screamed, dropped his gun; Reese shared a round with his knees, just to be certain he fell. O'Shea just stared, trembling, and Fusco jerked around, trying in vain to see where the shot had come from.

He stepped up to Reese, demanded, furiously,

'What the Hell, Wonder Boy? Who you got out there?'

' Robin Hood,' Reese said, flatly. Fusco gave him a confused glare, said, hotly,

'Are you _kiddin_' me?' Reese just gave Fusco a cold smile, left the stunned and confused O'Shea in his care, and walked off into the darkness that cloaked the bow of the ship.

He stepped from the ship to the dock, holding close to the shadows, and Finch's voice chimed in,

'Excellent work, Mr. Reese, and Angelica.' Reese smiled, because he could hear the amusement in his tone. They both found perverse joy in thwarting dishonest plans, and tonight, they'd bagged three crooks for the price of one number. He put his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, rattled his keys, as he heard the softest whisper of footsteps coming up alongside him. He glanced over, met Angelica's smile with one of his own. He looked her outfit over; she was wearing all black, including a hooded cloak, and he couldn't resist a jibe,

'Really? A cloak?' She made a face, said,

'C'mon. You know flowing cloth disguises movement,' and he laughed, softly, because he did know that. His expression faded as she continued to stare thoughtfully at him, easily keeping his pace. He wasn't used to walking with people who could match his long stride. Especially since he usually only walked with Finch. He admitted,

'Good work, on that last guy. How'd you know to wait for him?'

She gave a nonchalant lift of her shoulder, said,

'I counted when they came on board, and how many were down on deck. I knew one was missing.'

Reese shook his head, completely amazed at the many talents this woman brought to the table. Wondered again, what Finch had her working on.

They stopped in the parking lot, where their motorcycles were parked, carefully out of the view of security cams. She secured her quiver, and collapsed bow, first, then swung a leg over her bike, pulling off her cloak to stuff into the saddle bags. He couldn't stand the amused twinkle in her eye any longer.

'What?' he wondered, feeling wonderfully at ease standing there, next to her.

' 'Robin Hood', huh?' she teased, looking up at him, and Reese remembered she and Finch could both hear what was being said, on the ship. He chuckled, shrugged, looked down at his feet.

'If I'm Robin Hood, _you _must be 'Little John',' she winked.

He allowed a shy smile to claim his face, agreed,

'I guess so.'

'Well, are you Merry Men on your way back to Sherwood Forest?' Finch's voice interrupted, and Reese recognized the humor in his tone. He met Angelica's eye, and she gave snappy grin, silently mouthed 'Friar Tuck', and Reese had to stifle a laugh before he answered,

'Not sure, Finch.'

'Hungry,' Angelica informed them, grabbing her helmet.

'Wanna go get a steak?' Reese asked, impulsively, as he hopped onto his own bike, 'I know a place that's open late. They have great specialty beers, too.'

'I'm in,' Angelica said, strapping her helmet on.

'Finch?' Reese queried, and Finch said,

'I believe I'll pass, tonight. I have some other business to attend to, before tomorrow.' Reese just nodded, tapped Finch off. Strapped his own helmet on, fired up his bike, and led the way off into the night.

Finch, sitting alone in the near-darkness of the Library, gave a sad smile, as he pulled his ear bud out, then tapped his computer to sleep for the night. It was all right that he was alone; he actually didn't mind. Sometimes. Like now, knowing that Reese was in good company, with someone who could help him forget his difficult past, even if only for a few hours. Sighed, looked around the room, eyes falling on his wall of failures. He didn't look at it for very long; instead, he made his way to the glass which held the pictures from tonight's intervention, hesitating a few moments before pulling the four pictures down. He stacked them, neatly, satisfaction shaping his features.

There would be repercussions from tonight's activities, he was certain. After this event, Detective Carter would aggressively pursue the identity of the unknown archer, but she could not be allowed to find out who it was. There was too much at stake.

It was risky, allowing Angelica to actively participate in their work. He knew that, but didn't want Reese to start asking any questions; at least, not yet. That time…well, that time would come, soon enough. He wished he could have anticipated just how quickly, and seamlessly, she would become inserted into their work. Angelica's signature style was unique, and, once the wrong entities caught wind of it….things were going to get very complicated. Not just for Finch, but for Reese, and Angelica.

Finch sighed, again, shuffled slowly to the shelves where he stored all the hard copy of their work, and laid the photos carefully in their chosen spot. After one last look around the room, he collected his coat, shut down the lights, and made his way into the night.


End file.
